


Bowtie

by ScarletThread



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 12:32:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletThread/pseuds/ScarletThread
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I realized after I'd written and edited this that it bares an alarming resemblance to a fic I read a while ago, <em><a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/214285">Something Borrowed</a></em>. Please know that I was not intending to plagiarize or remake that fic in any way, but my reading it probably influenced me to write this. (You should go read that one, too, it's very good.)</p></blockquote>





	Bowtie

John asks for help with his bow tie. He's not used to wearing them. Sherlock obliges.

He stands too close as his fingers slide over the tease of silk at his neck. John's breath accidentally grazes the skin of his cheek and he fights to keep the blood from rushing to the area. Fold the side of the tie this way... no, this way...

He's aware that John is standing straight, the easy comfort from their early days gone. Sherlock knows that he's still standing too close. He doesn't back away. He won't get to be alone with confirmed bachelor John Watson ever again after this moment. No matter what he knows he feels and John doesn't, he is not going to back away from this moment.

He knows it's selfish, but that's Sherlock Holmes for you.

The expensive fabric falls mockingly out of his grasp. His brow furrows and he picks it up again. John is getting impatient.

Which way is it supposed to go, now?

He folds it over just to pretend that he's doing something. In reality the tiny freckle on John's neck is distracting him, clouding his mind over with images of lips and tongues and bite marks. John stares up at him, not as oblivious as Sherlock would like to believe. If only he wasn't so tied to fact. If only he could make believe, just for a moment, that it was all real.

He knows it's selfish.

Before he can stop it, his goddamn impulses take over and he's leaning down, his lips pressing against John's with bottled-up fervor.

At first, John lets him. He doesn't kiss back. He doesn't react. But he remains. He enables.

Then, with one swipe, he is away, the silk is out of Sherlock's hands and John's eyes are stern.

_No._ The word is firm and solid and swings to hit Sherlock in the face before he has time to duck. Even though he knew it was coming it still stings.

He wants to say it, but there is no room for the word _Please._ His eyes are broken glass, his lips still wet and half-open with self-pity. He hates what he has become. What they have become.

Without another word, John turns and leaves. He asks someone else to help with the bow tie. Sherlock is no longer fit for the task.

**Author's Note:**

> I realized after I'd written and edited this that it bares an alarming resemblance to a fic I read a while ago, _[Something Borrowed](http://archiveofourown.org/works/214285)_. Please know that I was not intending to plagiarize or remake that fic in any way, but my reading it probably influenced me to write this. (You should go read that one, too, it's very good.)


End file.
